I Love Paris in the Springtime, Part I

Ed and I went on a long-awaited trip to Paris over Easter weekend, and I can confirm that the city is every bit as fantastic as everyone says it is. The whole trip was a whirlwind, but I got a really good introduction to the city and I hope to visit it again someday for a more in-depth look!

We were upgraded to a suite, so this was our sitting area!

On Thursday afternoon, I left work a few hours early, and Ed and I boarded a Paris-bound plane at JFK. He cashed in a bunch of credit card miles to get us business class seats, and the ride was heavenly. We ate a four-course dinner accompanied by all the wine we could drink, watched movies on personal tablets, and slept on chairs that folded nearly flat. All this rest and comfort was crucial, because we landed in Paris at about 6:30 on Friday morning. The cab to our hotel took ages because it was rush hour, but we finally made it off the highway and into the city, where I craned my neck in every direction to take in the Seine, Notre Dame, and other attractions. Our driver left us at our charming, tiny hotel, located on a quiet street just off one of the major thoroughfares in the city. After freshening up a bit, we set off to explore.

Les Invalides

First on the list was the Eiffel Tower. We'd decided to walk there, and within five minutes of setting out I could understand why everyone goes crazy for this city. Most of the tree-lined streets are arranged in graceful curves. (This makes navigation difficult, but results in a very pretty setting.) The buildings are ornate and elegant, dotted with lots of balconies decorated with shapely iron railings. They are tall enough to frame the streets, but short enough to let in plenty of light. I took about 30 pictures before we'd ever reached our first landmark, Les Invalides. This is some sort of military building, though you wouldn't know it to look at the thing. The lines are genteel and elegant, and it's surrounded by lush grounds and crowned with a gold-trimmed dome, under which Napoleon is buried - or so we heard. Apparently it houses a museum, but part of the facility is still used for veterans' affairs. Ed and I walked by, admiring the architecture and the landscape; the front lawn was adorned with rows of meticulously pruned, bullet-shaped trees and green cannons pointed outward. And in the distance was our first view of the Eiffel Tower. I was mystified when Ed pulled out the map and began to plan our route - it seemed pretty clear that if we walked toward it we would get there - but he said that the streets don't always line up the right way. So we followed his route through more, lovely neighborhoods and after about 25 minutes we were suddenly right in front of it.

The tower looks different in person; pictures of it I have seen always make the top part look thinner than it is. The base area was swarming with tourists, and Ed and I saw that if we intended to get through our ambitious agenda, we could not spend time waiting in line for tickets, and then for the elevator that would take us to the top. So we wandered the grounds and took some pictures. I can't imagine that Paris is ever more beautiful than it is in spring. Trees were blossoming all over the place, the lawns were a lush, flawless shade of emerald, and meticulously arranged flowerbeds dotted the landscape. It was pretty breathtaking.

We decided we were hungry as we left the Eiffel Tower, but walked for a while to get away from the heavily-trafficked tourist areas. We rejected two restaurants after investigating their menus and decor, and finally settled on a brasserie near the posh Madeleine shopping district. I couldn't believe how, well, French the place looked. There were tiny tables gathered outside under the red awning, and the floor was made of small, white tiles. There was a dark, wooden bar, and the tiny tables inside were surrounded by woven chairs. I'd always thought that this sort of place was a stereotype, but here we were, in the middle of Paris, about to eat in a three-dimensional version of what I would have labeled a ridiculously cheesy photograph. Apparently, it's the real thing. The menu, thank heavens, had English on it as well as French, but we heard no English spoken there. I ordered the salmon, and it came cooked to perfection, perched atop a bed of ratatouille. Ed had duck, a delicious fried potato concoction, and a green salad. And the sliced baguette that arrived in a basket was chewy, fresh, and delicious.

Bocce court

Refueled, we headed to our next stop: the Tuileries Gardens in front of the Louvre. We walked crowded streets and intersections before coming upon the open, dusty area, lined with rows of trees and lawns and crowned with the Louvre in the background. The whole thoroughfare was packed with people. Upon closer examination, the shady areas on either side of the wide, dust-and-gravel path, consisted of tall, deliciously shady trees hiding sculptures and fountains. Ed and I watched some ducklings paddling in a pond for a while, and I took pictures of the beautifully manicured lawns and flowerbeds. As the Louvre was on Saturday's agenda, we went past it and continued on along the Seine River to the Luxembourg Gardens, our final scheduled stop before dinner. This was more like my idea of a park; the paths were made of the same yellow dust and gravel combination, but they were not as wide, allowing more space for the generous trees spread their shade over more thick lawns and flowerbeds. We sat in the sun for a while, then walked on to a collection of bocce ball courts where players, mostly men, competed. They laughed, and chatted, cigarettes bobbing between their lips, as they awaited their turn, but they turned deadly serious as they crouched, wound up, and tossed the silver balls at their targets. They were quite a collection of characters, between the outrageous puffy track pants, bushy white eyebrows, and gold watches scattered among them. I was particularly amused by the coat racks that had been wheeled into the area so the players could hang their coats.

A Van Gogh come to life!

My feet were aching by the time we came out of the garden. We had a few hours before our dinner reservation, and a nap seemed to be in order. Back at the hotel, we collapsed into the small bed and slept for an hour before smartening up and walking 15 minutes to the restaurant we'd picked. My friend Conor, a chef in Paris, had recommended it, and it did not disappoint. Neither the decor nor the food were exactly traditional - it looked like the kind of chic bistro one might find in southern California, and the food had Asian influences - but it was a beautiful place and the food was simply out of this world. Ed and I ordered the "Discovery Menu," a prix fixe line-up of several small appetizers, two dinner courses, and dessert, made more interesting because we had no idea what we were going to be getting next; the chef picks the items on the menu and each night features different, mystery offerings. Happily, each surprise was a pleasant one. My favorite was a plate of small scallops served with some sort of sweet, lemony sauce. I forced myself to put down my fork between each bite to make the food last as long as possible; otherwise I would have wolfed it down at light speed. It was heavenly.

After dinner we staggered back to the hotel through unbelievably romantic Paris streets, full, sleepy, utterly content, and ready for the next day's adventures.

(Stay tuned for Part II!)